Baby pace

I was Holding my daughter today when she started counting. "One,two,free,foooour,fife!" she said. It was the determination and tone of voice she used that made me realize what she had just done. Around here, milestones are coming so fast I would be untruthful if I said I noticed them all. She's growing quickly, but at her own pace. And holding her, I noticed that she has her father's smile. She shares her energy and determination with him as well.
Nights ago, I watched them as they slumbered heavily. Snow fell on our roof for the first time this winter, and the deep silence that snowfall brings kept me awake. I've grown used to hearing the faint drifting sound of the city in my ears like a wanderers lullaby, some neighbors out starting their car on an odd hour, coupled with the sound of horns from a mile away are now dually expected tunes to my ears. I don't miss the country when it's cold, it might be that winter months make city life worthwhile, with bookshops and indoor gardens to explore, thrift stores with longer hours and the mall, always full of a mad crowd.
But as I watched them both tucked neatly around one another, a pappas chin above his daughter's curls and crown, I noticed her length. A foot protruded some long mile from her dimpled cheek, startling my justifications and constant sense of presence as a mother. I am intent on nurturing her babyhood as long as it will last, but I see now that I should place quick reserations for my sanity somewhere that they might not be lost, leave it waiting checked in at the door so when my mind, baffled and stunned at the difference between that new born daughter just wrung into the world hours ago, and the affectionate statue glancing sidelong in my direction with a quick grasp at piloting her own days and clear preferences at each turn, might be preserved.

- mamma pie